


in plain sight

by watername



Category: SHINee
Genre: Blindfolds, M/M, Nipple Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:41:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26963098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watername/pseuds/watername
Summary: He looks at himself in the mirror, and tries to picture what Jinki feels when his eyes find him, when they trail over his body. His hands had fluttered to the bottom of his shirt when it started to ride up, Kibum remembers. Even as Kibum had swallowed him down, his reticence to be seen, to be bared, was paramount.In the mirror, his eyes are dark, sharp - exactly as he had always known them. They were always something to highlight or enhance. He takes a deep breath, and changes his perspective.blindfolding to help out your boyfriend with his body image issues
Relationships: Kim Kibum | Key/Lee Jinki | Onew
Comments: 15
Kudos: 27
Collections: Kinktober Bingo 2020





	in plain sight

**Author's Note:**

> written for the summerof5hinee kinktober event: blindfolds, nipple play.

When Jinki mumbles into his shoulder, sleepy and punch-drunk in the aftermath, “I have to close my eyes sometimes, when you’re looking at me,” Kibum’s heart leaps into his throat, and stays there the rest of the night. But first he has to say something back, hearing the absence of snores, the absence of a deep, unbothered breathing. He swallows down the petulant demand for clarification. 

Kibum can still feel the dampness of the tissues they’d used to clean up, the water swished around his mouth after Jinki came. And, yes, he remembers glancing up to see Jinki’s face, hopeful to see brimming pleasure within his eyes, and satisfied to see them squeezed shut instead. His assumption was a stupid, self-serving one, and he bristles internally in anger. On the outside, he plays with the long sleeve of Jinki’s shirt, rubbing the material between his fingers.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he says. Jinki snuffles into Kibum’s collar and nods. The pace of his breathing evens out. He sleeps, and Kibum stews in the background noise of that. The electrical wires draped just outside the apartment window hum unevenly. 

It’s hard not to take it as a rejection of Kibum himself, the sting of it ripe, but there’s no sense there, no cohesion with everything that’s comprised their relationship so far. Jinki had wandered into his life, and resolutely refuses to wander out, even after seeing the havoc that periodically rips through Kibum’s life. He’s kind, and with that Kibum realizes why it’s taken so long for Jinki to admit it, because he was precisely afraid of this kind of reaction, wary of giving Kibum any sort of distress. 

A part of him sniffs defensively at the thought, but lying in bed at three am leaves little room for pretense. 

Jinki is self-conscious, embarrassed to be seen, even by Kibum, and the fact that he wouldn’t lie to Kibum and pretend he was an exception, that’s a level of trust he won’t mismanage.

He lies in bed, his thoughts eliding into dreams as the sun comes up. 

* * *

It takes a few days. They don’t live together, but it’s become normal for Kibum to sleep over on weekends, for them to meet after work on Fridays for shopping. They head back to his place with bags full of ingredients, as well as snacks and drinks in case a lazy Saturday morning turns into a lazy Saturday night. Kibum is growing more fond of those lately, a hazard of his late twenties that Jinki surrendered to much earlier. 

Kibum unpacks his bathroom bag while Jinki sings in the kitchen. The dishes from dinner clatter as he moves them from the sink to the drying rack. 

He looks at himself in the mirror, and tries to picture what Jinki feels when his eyes find him, when they trail over his body. His hands had fluttered to the bottom of his shirt when it started to ride up, Kibum remembers. Even as Kibum had swallowed him down, his reticence to be seen, to be bared, was paramount.

In the mirror, his eyes are dark, sharp - exactly as he had always known them. They were always something to highlight or enhance. He takes a deep breath, and changes his perspective.

When they tumble into the bedroom a few hours later - when Jinki is pressing kisses against his neck, his hand warm and solid against the small of his back - Kibum sits himself at the edge of the bed and holds Jinki at bay when he moves to join him. His eyes go wide and questioning.

“Do you remember what you told me the other night, about me looking at you?” he asks without preamble. 

The immediate discomfort in Jinki’s face, the way his eyeline slides away from Kibum’s, tells him enough, has him squeezing his hands quickly before he releases. He turns away as Jinki starts to talk. 

“I’m sorry, Kibum, I didn’t mean anything - “

He stops talking when Kibum turns back, when he pulls the length of a pretty, dark blue scarf taut. The last view he takes in of Jinki, the startle evident in his eyes, the slight parting of his lips, has no trace of rejection or confusion. He doesn’t give hesitation the room to take root; instead, he loops the scarf around, ties the knot quick at the back of his head. He finds Jinki’s hands again in the darkness. 

“You meant something by it, baby. I’m glad you told me,” he stresses. Jinki’s palms feel clammy and nervous. He tries again. “If you’re not comfortable, then we should find a way to help you feel comfortable. So - let’s try.”

The tempting rush of nerves, he expels ruthlessly. He wills himself to be patient, even as it’s not in his nature to simply wait for a response. Jinki doesn’t say anything, but there’s the nervous sounds of motion, like he’s shifting from foot to foot. He’s likely biting his lip, as he mulls over what to say. 

“Is it comfortable?” Jinki asks, and Kibum squeezes his hand and nods, intent to let Jinki ask any questions that he sees fit. The fact that he asked after Kibum’s feelings validates those first hours’ conclusion, that the confession was butting up against his desire to avoid hurting Kibum’s feelings, even inadvertently. 

The subtle sounds of his shifting, when no further questions come up, is only amplified in the dark blue chasm now composing Kibum’s world. He starts to feel a little off-put, like he calculated wrong otherwise, that there was something else in Jinki’s admission he couldn’t decipher. 

“We don’t need to do anything,” he says in a rush, pulling his hand back and moving to release the knot, but Jinki’s hand tumbles after him. It misses him properly but lands on Kibum’s arm instead. He pauses and waits, his patience growing thin under the stress of confirming he’s navigating this right. He doesn’t want to mess this up, to make Jinki only regret telling him. 

“I love you, you know? It has nothing to do with you. I want to be with you,” Jinki says. “It’s hard for me to - to be seen like that.”

“I know,” Kibum says in a rush. In his relief he pulls Jinki forward, forgetting his clumsiness, and they land in a tumble on the bed. Jinki curses beneath his breath, his stomach catching the sharp angle of Kibum’s elbow. Kibum moves to pull the blindfold off and make sure he’s okay, but Jinki catches him at his wrist. His lips meet Kibum’s unexpectedly, if a little awkwardly as Kibum had no sense of the motion. 

“You stay stop, I stop,” Kibum says for the  _ i love you _ in return. He waits for Jinki to nod back, to feel the movement beneath his hands. The slide of his brow against the scarf is unfamiliar, but their kisses meander in an easy duet.

When Jinki moves his hand to cup Kibum’s cheek, he starts in surprise. He had always kissed with his eyes closed, but there was nothing from stopping him to see, to check how he and Jinki had moved their bodies against each other. Being blindfolded had left him with his strong intuition, but he hadn’t realized how much of that was supplemented with the little peeks here and there. He settles beneath Jinki’s touch as best he can, keenly and abruptly aware of the startled nerve endings pulled tight beneath his skin. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Jinki breathes out in a gasp. His lips are brushing at the hollow space created where the scarf pulls across his nose. It’s a subtle sign of change, for him to voice such sentiments. Jinki loses himself to sensation so easily, and here is what Kibum wasn’t able to anticipate: that letting Jinki operate unseen would let him feel more free to voice as well. 

“God, just everything about you,” he continues, even before Kibum can think of what to say next. He lets his lips move down, gentle and reverent in every point of contact between him and Kibum. He moves his neck to give Jinki access there, indulgent to shiver as Jinki sucks a bit of skin between his teeth, sure to be purpled over in the morning. “I can’t believe I get to touch you.”

Kibum gropes blindly as he finds his way up to Jinki’s shoulder, then to his back. He digs his fingers in encouragingly as his boyfriend nuzzles against his skin, muttering insensible flatteries. When he moves down further, his hands brushing at Kibum’s sides, the grip Kibum has on Jinki’s shirt pulls it up with him and he stutters to a stop. He breathes, wet and hard, against Kibum’s stomach.

The material is bunched up, awkward and tight in Kibum’s half-fist, before he carefully begins to release it, flattening it against Jinki’s back. 

There’s a sudden dip of pressure on the bed, a change of position - Jinki pulls away, leaning back and away from Kibum. The change of air hints at something, but Kibum is baffled as to what until Jinki leans in close again, his lips once again finding Kibum’s. He puts his hand over Kibum’s and guides it forward until it finds Jinki’s skin, the soft layer stretched across his middle. He moves up cautiously, Jinki’s hand still over his, exploring the space between his pectorals, the shallow dip of collarbone, the hollow of his throat. 

Kibum tries his best to keep his touches light, eager to commit to memory these first moments Jinki has permit himself to be known like this, yet wary of scaring him off. He traces his fingernails in lazy paths as Jinki braces over him; his tongue darts out between his lips to taste Kibum’s throat. As Jinki makes his way to move downward again, he disturbs the soft trails that will lead to Kibum’s navel, and scrapes his chest on Kibum’s nails. The change in direction injects another twist, another discovery. Kibum’s nail tweaks against the hard bud of Jinki’s nipple, and he chokes, sputtering a sloppy curse. 

If there was a moment Kibum regretted the blindfold, it was this: the unclear impression of Jinki twitching helpless and hungry; the messy affections of the tongue spilling out of his mouth, wettening the dark curls that spring above Kibum’s cock.

“Come back up,” he pleads, because if Jinki takes him in his mouth he won’t be able to. He moves blindly until he finds hair, tugs gently at it until Jinki acquiesces. His other hand searches again, lands on his chest, and softly moves over his nipple once more. He can hear the moan Jinki bites back. Kibum licks at his lips and slowly pulls Jinki into his orbit, straining to hear for any request to stop, to feel for any reluctance. 

But nothing comes. He replaces his fingers with his mouth, and begins to suckle gently at Jinki’s nipple. The thumb of his free hand moves to brush delicately over the other, and Jinki trembles in his hold. 

A soft noise is shattering in Jinki’s mouth, muffled against Kibum’s head, as he ministrates. Jinki is a heavy weight that could collapse at any moment, but this new discovery strips away Kibum’s caution. Jinki mewls at every pull, every pulse that Kibum applies ruthlessly. Kibum’s tongue pulses against his nipple, his other hand tweaks and plays in between the wet breaths he catches against Jinki’s chest. The blindfold is being caught and knocked askew as they continue; Jinki presses in on him, eager for more in a way Kibum has never seen from him. His cock is a wet, leaking thing he pulls out in a clumsy, one-handed motion and drags across Kibum’s torso. His body is trembling with the effort of keeping upright, and Kibum lets his teeth capture the very tip of the bud. 

“Kibum - Kibum, I,” Jinki sputters and Kibum slips his lips over his nipple once more. The teeth scrape against the bumpy surface and Jinki is cursing into his hair. His cock is wet and spent, pulsing uneven against his side, onto the sheets, before Jinki collapses beside him. The mattress dips down and Kibum rolls towards him. It’s a mess beneath his hip. 

Fingers pull shyly at the blindfold, pushing it back into his hair and Kibum blinks to adjust to even the low level of light in the bedroom. It feels like a different space entire than what he entered just an hour ago. 

Jinki looks at him, and Kibum lets him - lets him roam over his lips, his cheeks, his throat. He looks beyond him in return, just skirting over the top of his head, the loose strands of hair sticking out. Jinki’s touch, when it comes, is a hesitant, but happy thing as it reaches over to land once again on Kibum's jaw. His pinky slides against his throat. 

He scoots, awkward and ungainly until their foreheads can press together. Kibum closes his eyes and breathes out in an effort to steady, to call upon the shallow reservoirs of patience. His own need is drumming steadily away, eager to be recognize, but he can wait. He can wait. 

“Kibum,” Jinki whispers against his lips. His hand presses against Kibum’s stomach, his thumb grazing exploringly at the thatch of hair surrounding his cock. 

“Look at me. Please.”


End file.
